


Ineffable Dads

by Autumn_R_Rivers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley is good with kids, Emotional Abuse, Everyone Needs A Hug, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Dads, M/M, Physical Abuse, Whump, eventually, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_R_Rivers/pseuds/Autumn_R_Rivers
Summary: Aziraphale doesn't see many children in his dusty old shop, so when one wanders in on her own looking for a book, how can he turn her down? Sure, it's a little odd, but he's not one to judge. That's for the almighty afterall. Crowley on the other hand, is pretty sure something fishy is going on.A.k.a: Ineffable husbands find a kid in desparate need of good parenting. They do their best.





	1. Small Miracle

It was a quiet, rainy day when a child found her way into aziraphale's shop. He had just settled into a book, satisfied that he would have no customers that day, when the bell over his door chimed pleasantly. Of course he had to jinx it, didn't he? He slid a bookmark over the page he was reading, and stood with an only slightly disappointed sigh. 

"Hello, can I help you?" He was a little surprised to see that his customer was a girl of about twelve or thirteen. He glanced out his front windows, expecting to see a parent on their way as well, but found nothing. Maybe children had begun maturing faster since the last time he dealt with them. 

"Um..." The little girl seemed hesitant, even though she was the one who walked in in the first place. "Is this a library?" She looked hopeful, even if her hopes were misguided. 

"Oh, I'm afraid not, dear. This is a book shop. Although I don't really sell many books, either. You can always sit down and read something though, if that's what you're after. What are you looking for?" Aziraphale would normally have shooed someone out the door with directions to the actual library, but well, he was never very good at disappointing children. Came with the whole angel job description, he supposed. 

The girl's eyes became curious as she looked around. She pulled at the hem of her shirt thoughtfully. "I have to do a book report on The Last of the Mohicans, do you have that?" 

Aziraphale smiled widely. "You know I think I do! I'll go have a peek to see if I can find it, I'll be right back." He turned on his heels, already sure he knew exactly where that volume was located, when a thought crossed his mind. 

"When are your parents expecting you home, dear? I'd hate to keep you too long." He was facing a bookshelf, so he didn't see her reaction, but it took her a minute to respond. 

"I don't think my dad will mind as long as I'm home for dinner." She concluded finally, and when he turned back around she was sitting cross legged in one of his chairs. 

"Oh, well that's alright then." He smiled again, now with a thin book in his hands. "Here it is, I knew I had it somewhere. You weren't looking for any particular edition where you?" 

Her brow furrowed, and she frowned at him. 

"Oh, of course not, silly me. Here you are then! Hopefully it helps with your book report." He handed her the book, still smiling. She seemed hesitant to take it from him, but offered a small smile of her own. 

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, but sincere. She drew her legs up under her and immediately opened the book to its first page. Aziraphale felt an odd pang of pride that she was so excited to read one of his books. 

After a long moment of just hanging around and well, supervising if he was honest, Aziraphale moved back to his own seat and reopened his own book with a contented sigh. In his opinion, there was nothing like sitting down with a difficult novel on a rainy day. And the girl was pleasant company, he had to admit. She was silent as she read, only the pages turning reminding the angel that she was even still there. It wasn't hard for him to get lost in his literature. Before he knew it, they'd been there for two hours. 

"Oh!" Aziraphale blinked with alarm, and the girl jumped from the sudden noise. "You'd better be getting home, dear. Your parents are going to wonder what's happened to you." He pointed at the clock on the wall. They were quickly running out of afternoon, and running into evening. 

"Oh no." She cringed, getting up immediately. "Here's your book back, thanks for letting me read some of it." She stretched up on her toes to offer the book to him, suddenly seeming more nervous than she had been before. 

"Anytime." Aziraphale grinned, and didn't even bother to put the book away. Instead, he laid it on his end table, so he would remember where it was, making sure to keep the girl's place. "It's always nice to have a reading partner. My er- friend. He doesn't really care for it." He tip-toed gently around him and Crowley's complicated relationship. They were certainly more than friends but well, he didn't really have a name for what they were. He forced himself back to the subject. 

"If you still need more for your report, you can always come back and finish reading. I'm not always open at the same times, but if you knock and I'm here I'll let you in." He patted her gently on the head. Crowley would have rolled his eyes and called him soft. 

The girl looked torn, but in the end she smiled gratefully. "Thanks a lot." She looked overwhelmingly happy. "I'm Emily." 

"Nice to meet you Emily, you can call me Mr. Fell." Aziraphale used the same name he always did when dealing with humans. They usually had a hard time with his full one, especially little humans. 

The girl -emily, he supposed- stayed for one second longer, looking like she didn't really want to leave, before she turned and pushed her way back out of the shop. The rain had let up, thank heaven. Aziraphale wasn't sure he could send her out in that weather with a clear conscious. And well, taking her to her home himself would be no small miracle.


	2. Slamming Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to add some cute ineffible husbands stuff at the end so this whole chapter wasn't just self indulgent OC stuff

Emily slid out into the cool evening air, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that the sun was still out. So she wasn't late then. She took a deep, steadying breath, and the musty smell of old books seemed to remain on her. It was comforting, in a way. 

That old man had been very nice. 

She shook her head wistfully, and headed home. They were relatively new in town, so she wasn't quite as confident on the streets as she might have been, but she made it back alright anyway. She hesitated in front of the paint-chipped door, her hand hovering over the doorknob uncertainly. 

She closed her eyes with a silent prayer, and pushed her way inside. 

It turned out she didn't have to worry too much about being late, since her dad wasn't here at all. Relief and disappointment both flooded her, as she took her book bag to her room. Carefully, she pushed it under her bed, just to make sure everything looked neat. Her next stop was the fridge, thought she didn't have high hopes. Two beers and a bottle of ketchup. She closed the door, pretending she wasn't really that hungry to begin with. At the very least there would be lunch at school tomorrow. She stubbornly ignored the way her stomach clenched. 

Defeated, she snuck back to her room. No one was home, but she still found herself tip-toeing as she went. She should have taken notes on that book. If she had, she might have been able to start working on her report. As it was, she'd have to go back tomorrow. 

At least it would give her something to do after school. 

She sat down on her bed, wincing at the way it creaked. In an empty house every noise seemed like a roar. She pulled her feet up so she could sit cross-legged, her thoughts drifting back to the old man and his books. She couldn't help but look forward to going back, even if it was just until she finished her book report. Dad always said books were a waste of time, but he surely couldn't mind if it was for a school project, could he? 

As if even thinking about him made him appear, Emily heard the front door slam, announcing the arrival of her dad. She quickly jumped up, trying to make herself look busy by cleaning her room up.

**

Across town, a different door slammed open. Aziraphale's face split into a wide grin. There was only one demon who would announce himself so rudely. 

"I'm in the kitchen!" He called out, setting the newly filled tea kettle down on the stovetop. Sure enough, it was only a few seconds later that the lanky form of the demon Crowley walked through his shop and into his living quarters. 

"Hello, Crowley." Aziraphale huffed happily, turning to face the demon. "You're early!" He could practically feel the way his aura swelled with joy. 

"Angel." Crowley nodded, stoic as always. But his eyebrows twitched in just a way that let Aziraphale know he really was happy to see him. "You know how I am, time is relative and all. Next time I'll be real late to make up for it." 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, not truly annoyed. "Would you like some tea before we go out? I just put a pot on."

"Oh, I should have known you'd rope me into some domestic scene. Fine, I'll have tea." Crowley flopped down into a chair over-dramatically. All an act of course. Crowley loved tea, he just wouldn't admit it. 

It felt like a lot of their interactions went that way now. Playing a part, like it was some game to them. Crowley the grumpy demon, Aziraphale the patient angel. They didn't have anyone to prove it to anymore, but it was almost ingrained in them to play along. It was sort of funny, to think what heaven and hell would think of them if they saw them right now. 

The kettle screamed, shaking Aziraphale out of his thoughts. He quickly set about to making the tea, pouring it into two adorable little cups and bringing them into the sitting room with him. His with sugar and milk, and Crowley's plain. He pretended not to notice when Crowley poured in his own "additive". 

Aziraphale settled into his armchair with a heavy, contented sigh. "How is your week going?" He asked his companion, idly stirring the teabag around in the bottom of his cup. 

Crowley snorted. "Oh you know. Kicking ass and taking souls. The usual." He made an obnoxious slurping noise when he took a sip, very obviously on purpose. 

"Of course, I should have known. You are after all, the best demon." Aziraphale's voice was thick with playful sarcasm. Ever since The-Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, he had become bolder in the way he spoke to people. Though he was still polite of course, he didn't feel quite the urge to be so subdued. 

And, he knew the best way to make Crowley have a real conversation with him. 

"How are your plants? I thought I saw a new one last time I was at your flat." 

He couldn't see Crowley's eyes, but he knew from experience the way they lit up. For the next twenty minutes Aziraphale listened contentedly while his demonic houseguest chattered on and on about the intricacies of raising houseplants. It was lovely, and ended with the both of them grinning like fools. 

"Honestly Crowley, one of these days you're going to get caught stealing from the royal gardens." Aziraphale chuckled, gathering up the few dishes and heading towards the kitchen. Crowley was quick to follow. 

"That was nothing, angel! You should have seen me at the Rose Bowl last year. They never even knew what happened!" They both had a good laugh. 

Crowley helped put away the dishes, explaining away the charitable behavior by explaining that "I'm ruining your hospitality, you see. I've tempted you into being a bad host." 

A very thin excuse, but Aziraphale didn't argue. There was a comfortable silence for a moment. The air felt...warm. They were missing their dinner reservations but neither of them seemed to care, as they stood closely together to dry off the teacups. 

As the night drew on, their conversations became softer, simpler. They talked long into the night until Crowley was yawning, and Aziraphale was itching to get back into his reading. 

"Angel, you've kept me very late. I really should be getting home. Just because I don't NEED sleep, doesn't mean I don't want it." The demon stood, stretching out to his full length lazily. 

"Oh.." Aziraphale hummed wistfully. "I mean..." He hesitated for a moment. "I have a bed upstairs, if you don't want to drive so late." 

Crowley's eyebrows raised over his glasses considerably. 

"I mean for sleeping!" Aziraphale's face turned bright crimson. Crowley burst out laughing. He laughed for a good long time too, as Aziraphale grew redder and redder. 

"I didn't know an angel could blush like that!" He practically roared, bending over and holding his stomach like a child. "If you wanted to bed me, you should have just said!" He lifted up his glasses then, so that Aziraphale could see him wink. 

The angel crossed his arms, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Are you quite finished?" He huffed. 

"No." Crowley kept laughing, leaning on the chair so he wouldn't fall over. "No I don't think I'll ever be done. Honestly, if you want to sleep with me so bad, how can I deny you?" He headed up the stairs without ever officially saying he would stay, but Aziraphale heard the box strings in his bed complain as the demon flopped down on them, still laughing. 

The angel snatched his book off the coffee table, huffing audibly. He found it difficult to focus on the words as he stewed, thinking about Crowley sprawled out on his bed mere feet away.


	3. Cookies

Emily went back to the little bookshop the very next day, just like she said she would. The day was much nicer, the sun beaming down onto the sidewalk. It was almost hot, maybe for the last day this year. Fall was quickly approaching. 

She pushed her way into the shop, peeking around hesitantly. "Hello?" She didn't want to go too far in without anyone's permission. 

"Oh! Emily!" The older man from the day before was there, practically beaming. "I'm so glad you came back. Look, I saved your place in The Last of the Mohiccans!" He picked up the book to show her and sure enough, a little slip of paper was sticking out the top. 

Emily blinked, feeling honestly more touched than the tiny gesture should have made her. She took the book from him, her throat growing thick with emotion. "Thank you, um, Mr. Fell." She coughed a bit, offering a small, watery smile. 

Suddenly, loud footsteps came from a room in the back as someone banged their way down the steps. Emily had an initial, startling thought and she nearly dropped the book, her face paling. Quickly however, she was proved wrong by a tall frame sauntering into view. He stretched, and his fingers nearly grazed the ceiling. 

The stranger's presence had an odd, intimidating aura, in staunch contrast to Mr. Fell's gentle warmth, but the older man didn't seem bothered in the slightest. If anything he looked pleased. 

"Crowley, perfect timing!" He practically purred. "This is Emily. She's working on a book report!" 

"Ah." The stranger- crowley, apparently- sounded amused. "I should have known you'd be up to something boring and bookish." He wore thick sunglasses that made it impossible to read his expression, but Emily took the cue from Mr. Fell's laughter that it was alright to relax. 

"Emily, this is Crowley. He's grumpy, but harmless." He winked gently, despite Crowley's loud protests. Emily found herself laughing along, against her better judgement. 

The atmosphere was beginning to feel like that of a family sitcom, with light, friendly jabs being passed around a dinner table as everyone laughed. It almost hurt to be here. 

"Go ahead and sit down dear, I'll be back to join you in a minute." Mr. Fell smiled kindly, waking her from her thoughts. 

"Thank you." She mumbled again, carefully setting herself down on the same armchair she'd occupied the day before. Across from her, on the couch, Crowley was already sprawled out very unceremoniously. She opened the book to avoid his curious eyes. 

Without Mr. Fell in the room, a lot of the warmth had left with him. Being alone with the other man felt cold, but not necessarily in a bad way. Like hiding in a basement while the storm sirens scream outside. Scary, unpredictable, but safe. She'd never quite felt like someone's presence influenced the room as much as she had today. 

"What brings you into a bookshop of all things on a Wednsday afternoon? I thought all the kids were at the arcade about now." The man spoke carelessly, watching her with a vague sort of interest. 

"I have a...book report due?" Emily blinked, confused. "And it is very nice in here." She didn't mention that no one had gone to hang out in the old arcade in years. 

"Hm. I suppose it is. I guess I just don't spend a lot of time around children. How old are you, anyway?" Crowley's face scrunched up as he squinted at her. "I didn't think it was typical for such small people to be out and about on their own." 

Emily felt heat rise to her face in indignation. "I'm almost thirteen!" She insisted, shame crawling up her spine and coloring her cheeks. 

"Yes, of course." Crowley waved away her objections with one hand. "I just meant-" 

"Crowley!" Mr. Fell came back into the room all at once, a small tray in his hands. "Manners, please. You don't need to interrogate the poor girl." He reprimanded, looking unconvincingly angry. 

Crowley pouted, almost as unconvincingly. 

"Anyway." Mr. Fell huffed, setting his tray down on the coffee table. "I thought we might like a little teatime snack while we read." He beamed, gesturing to the small arrangement of cookies he'd brought in with him. 

Emily barely kept herself from staring, her eyes flicking back and forth from the table back to her book. She swallowed thickly. 

"You can have some you know, that's why I brought them." Mr. Fell's voice was gentle and kind. When Emily looked up at him, he was smiling widely. He looked rather proud of himself, actually. 

She rationed that well, if she DIDN'T eat a cookie or two, it might hurt his feelings! She wouldn't want to do that. That didn't keep her from feeling guilty when she reached out to grab one. He sure seemed happy about it though. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Crowley's expression change to something curious. By the time she glanced over , he was back to the same stoic face he'd had before, but she knew she saw something. 

The rest of the afternoon went well. Mr. Fell was able to talk her into another few cookies, and by the time she closed her book she was feeling comfortably full. She looked up at the old clock reluctantly, knowing it was time for her to go home. She frowned sadly. 

"Oh, you're going to be late dear, if you don't go now." Mr. Fell stood as well, stretching out with a satisfied sigh. Even Crowley perked up. 

"Yes." Emily sighed, slipping the bookmark back in between the pages, and setting it down onto the end table again. She was about half way through it now, she'd have to come back again if she was going to finish that report. 

She didn't feel upset about that at all. 

"Thank you for joining me again Emily, you can come by anytime you want to finish it. And, if you like it, I think I have another book around here you might enjoy." Mr. Fell looked so hopeful, how could she say no?

"That'd be nice." She felt something warm amd unfamiliar bloom in her chest. "I...guess I'd better get going." 

"I'll drive you." Crowley stood up suddenly, pushing past her to get to the door first. 

"Oh, that's really not-" 

"What a great idea! That way you can't be late." Mr. Fell was practically [i]beaming[/i]. Emily felt helpless to refuse with everyone looking at her like this. 

"I...I guess, yeah. Alright." She smoothed down the front of her shirt nervously. She couldn't help but feel like she was making a mistake as she followed Crowley out to his car. Mr. Fell wouldn't send her alone with him if he was dangerous. 

Would he?

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably gonna be pretty slow to start, but I hope you like it! Very self indulgent as well. Hopefully not too ooc.


End file.
